Preshea's First
by FrostedFire
Summary: Finishing School Series. She had been excited. The murder of one's first husband was supposed to be exciting! And yet, it wasn't. (warnings: character death)


She had been looking forward to this moment since the day she turned eight. The affair originally was thought up as a brilliant scheme, one that her mother pointed out was flawed and childish. At her admittance into the same program as her parent, she was thrilled; the plot no longer was a fantasy. Her experiences as a trainee would permit her to brutally execute (read: poison) her first husband.

When she received her debut marks, there was a bit of terror that she would have to do so without permission, first. Thankfully, that didn't affect her much. Although it would have been a shame, she simply shrunk up her nose, and whispered daintily to Agatha, who had instantly blushed at being placed next to someone with such a high place.

Or so she thought.

Now, at the ripe age of seventeen (and a _half_), she was proceeding to preoccupy herself with the materials required for a ball. It was terrifying, brilliant, and something that she truly wished Monique was about to help with. But Monique was gone, and it was only her. And sometimes that annoying little bint she had allowed to room with her.

Basically, Preshea was all alone.

She was especially alone when Sidheag, Sophronia, and Dimity all up and left the dirigible. It was now just her and Agatha, and a few debuts which liked to hang around. Although she couldn't quite stand the other girls, it was now very empty in the classes. Which meant that, by extension, Lady Linette was quite determined to make perfection out of her and Agatha.

It was all very nice, as they needed the practice. But it wasn't very fair; Agatha always smelled so nicely, and they were pressed so close together on the couches.

She was almost relieved when she was given leave to attend her own ball. Her invitations extended to quite a few young ladies at the school, as well as Agatha, and the professors. Well, not the great vampire. Although his tether had snapped, he was still much too insane to be allowed in society.

But that was the past. Now, she was preparing for her wedding. Agatha was assisting in this regard; the girl was the only one to have stayed long enough to care. Although, she really doubted that Agatha wanted to be there. She probably was just doing so out of duty. Besides, this was their finishing assignment.

For Agatha, it was the poisoning of one of the Picklemen in attendance. Lord Brickleshift, a grand friend of Preshea's mother, had been interfering in something he should not have (though they weren't told exactly what it was). She was given something mostly different; her patron happened to be the Queen, too, and was proclaimed that it was necessary for her to marry, first.

Never mind that her match was someone years over her.

Preshea swooped back and forth in her large, green dress, eyes brooding in the mirror. There was a tint of venom; she was extremely excited. She was finishing, and poisoning! All at once! She would stay married for months, plotting the exact move. Then, she would be allowed to pass on the information as well as the poison.

It was so exciting! She turned to Agatha with a dainty grin. "Do I look all right?"

"Your decolletage is showing quite nicely," the redhead announced, before blushing suddenly at what was stated. "Oh, I didn't mean to be improper."

A smirk touched the darker-haired girl's lips. "Yes, you did mean it improperly. But I do look seductive enough?" She appeared to be frightened for a moment, but pulled together. "I do hope to reel him in completely. It will make the poisoning so satisfying!"

"How droll. Now, where are your flowers?"

She shrugged, shoulders dipping easily. Then, straightening her features, she grasped for the bundle pressed against her hand. "You're a dear, Agatha. I'm very glad for you."

The girl blushed. Then, "I'm quite glad for you, too."

After that point, her wedding was boring. She applied the words without much internal feeling, though appeared a blushing, beautiful bride. The next few months were ridiculous. Her husband was fat, annoying, and very, very punctual. Agatha sent word that she had finished during this time, and she dutifully passed information through her lady's maid.

It was a boring time. Not many came to visit her. Once, she received word that Monique received status as a Queen. The next day, she had heard it was a lie. Agatha neither confirmed nor denied. Preshea was practically alone.

And she dreadfully missed Agatha.

Oh, she had been looking forward to this moment since eight! Why had it become so _boring_? She nearly poisoned him out of a lack of things to do.

Preshea was extremely thankful for the day that came a year later. Agatha had sent word of the date, and it was time. Her fingers were careful to apply the flowers in her hair. She searched for her cyanide dusting, and had escaped down the stairs. Where, of course, she was expecting almond cakes to be laid out.

Agatha was next to them.

"Oh, my sweet friend! How are you? Who showed you up?" she queried. Her husband sat next to them, drawn up to his f full height. The freckles on her face nearly paled. Why was he home? "Oh, my dear. You are home very early." What was going on? She hated not being in the know. Fashion was one thing; her murder plot was another.

He stared at her coolly. "Miss Wooswoos was informing me of a grand scheme. She claims you are involved."

"A scheme?" she question. Her brows shot up. This wasn't supposed to be like this. Wasn't Agatha her friend? And the girl sat there, uncaring.

"Show your hands."

Preshea did so without complaint. However, she did offer wifely concern as to why she was doing so. "Are you quite well, my love?"

He patted her cheek, twice, and then removed the pocket that hung from her neck. That, of course, was what held the item. It was inside a sweet- a trick that she had heard from Sophronia. And he had found it, all at once!

"This?"

She arched a brow. "A trinket."

"Candy?"

"It was given to me by a dear friend," she explained. Her heart, meanwhile, was pounding softly. Her stomach dropped.

He handed it to her. "Eat it."

She had been looking forward to this moment since the day she turned eight. Her stomach twisted, and the red candy was shoved roughly inside her mouth. What a strange way to go- hadn't the fortune teller stated that she was to be widowed? Or was it the opposite?

A cough. Preshea glanced wistfully at Agatha, fingers floating outwards. The young woman did not flinch. "Oh, please! Agatha, please!" All pretenses of appearing normal was gone. Her tooth caught on accident, and the powder spilled out. "Agatha!"

She was shrill. The plump young woman was cool. She did not flinch, and walked over. There was a knife in her hand, but she did not enact a mercy killing.

"Agatha!" Preshea started, and her throat burned. Her body nearly succumbed, the pale creature becoming even more white. "Agatha!"

Agatha still did not speak. Then, as the girl was fading, she pressed a hand to her opposite's throat. "Yes?"

"I loved you."

She expired.


End file.
